


The Devil Works Hard But We Work Harder

by FlashyTrashyKawa



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Bad Humor, High School, M/M, Mutual Pining, Soft Boys, Teacher-Student Relationship, Woosan, ateez is the main!!, bad boy wooyoung, but ill include the others too, like from exo bts stray kids bp and g-idle, model yeosang, more tags coming once i figure this out, oh look so is everyone else, other k-idols but just as side characters, san is a mess, stan ATEEZ, student hongjoong, t is for language atm, teacher seonghwa, the duality i cant even, woosan centric, yungi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-28 04:07:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18203309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlashyTrashyKawa/pseuds/FlashyTrashyKawa
Summary: Choi San has had many unexpected encounters in his life and Jung Wooyoung is certainly one of the more interesting ones.orwooyoung tries to be a bad boy but he's too cute and everyone at san's new school is crazy.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> annyeong! idk where i'm going with this but we'll see! the beginning is a bit (very) descriptive because there isn't much dialogue but pls bear with me, it'll pick up soon i promise <3 also lmk if my korean is wrong lmao i'm trying pls have mercy :')

If Choi San didn’t know any better, he would deem his current state of affairs to be most unfortunate.

He groaned as it took an unnecessary amount of effort to roll out from under his covers on that particular morning. It was cold; much colder than it was in his old city and his bed was so _warm_. San violently shivered as the cold air met his exposed face. He’d only just managed to force it out from under the comfort of his worn yet fully functional quilt.

Unpacking was hell to say in the least. His _Yo_ was surrounded by a sea of cardboard boxes, only a quarter of which he had managed to open, let alone unpack. Jetlag had left him awake yet dysfunctional until about three in the morning.

Today was going to be _terrible._

He almost screamed when the solace of his comforter was ripped off him, leaving his bare arms and legs exposed to the ruthless temperature of his ridiculously cold room.

“ _Eomma!_ ” He whined and flailed his arms as his mother padded right past him, unaffected by his plight and intent on parting the closed curtains. “Five more minutes, please...” He sluggishly managed to complain through his shivers.

His mother’s only response was to part the curtains and allow the too-bright sun to filter into his room and light up the dark corners shadowed by the mountains of cardboard. “There’s an omelette on the table and some coffee in the pot, I’ll go shopping for more food after work.” She looked down at San in exasperation as he continued to flail in an attempt to warm himself.  

San sighed and sat up in defeat and grabbed the wrinkled sweater he’d worn yesterday, “ _Ne eomma_.”

“Good, please try to stay awake. I don’t want to be late on my first day, so I’ll leave first.”

San nodded and dragged his feet as he got up with the intention following his mom to the front door to wish her off.

The cold of the apartment bit at his knees but he was too lazy to even try and find a pair of sweatpants in the dumpster he currently called his bedroom.

His mother was leaning against the doorframe, halfway into the hall of the eighth floor in their building. She smiled stiffly and ran a hand through her son’s hair, cupping the back of his head and bringing it down so she could kiss his forehead. “ _Annyeong_ , have a nice day. Please behave, Sannie.”

“ _Annyeong eomma_. No promises.” He allowed a small, cheeky smile to grace his face. It grew wider as his mom huffed a laugh and playfully tightened her hand in his hair.

She shook her head and pulled back, looking San in the eye and nodding when she was convinced that he wasn’t faking his good-naturedness. She gave a pat to his cheek and turned to leave. San watched her from the door until she reached the elevator at the end of the hall.

“Fighting!!” He cheered with his loudest voice as she stepped in and disappeared behind the metal doors.

He then glanced up at the clock, confusedly noting how early his mom had decided to leave (it was only **_7:30_** ), and calculated that he had about an hour until he had to be at school. Not _bad_.

Five minutes max to wolf down his breakfast, ten minutes to find something to wear, twenty minutes to get ready (aka fixing his hair), five to fix up his bedding, and ten to drive to school with another ten minutes as leeway. _Great_.

San locked the front door and skipped to the kitchen to pour the leftover coffee into his pink travel canister and then proceeded to inhale his omelette. He closemouthedly moaned at the perfection of his mother’s cooking, God that woman was talented. She deserved nothing short of heaven.

After licking his plate clean (one couldn’t judge until they had tasted his mother’s talent for themselves), San rinsed his plate like the model son he was trying so hard to be and gently placed it on the nearest drying rack. He couldn’t wait until their dishwasher arrived. He then checked one final time to make sure there was nothing left on the table before scurrying back to his room.

He’d forgotten how gross his room looked after leaving it for only a mere eight minutes.

He frustratedly ran his fingers through his hair and targeted the nearest half open box which he was pretty sure contained some sort of fabric. He wasn’t sure anymore, his memories from last night were fuzzy and sleep-riddled.

The still sleepy and cold boy reached through a small hole he’d made the night before and clenched his hands around what he hoped was knit. After securing it, he sharply yanked back hoping the sweater wouldn’t stretch.

Alas, it wasn’t even a sweater but a throw blanket that he’d hastily packed.

San grumbled and tried again. This time he ended up with his pyjamas.

_Well, at least that’s progress._

After a third attempted, he’d managed to drag out his stuffed Snorlax which he lightly tossed next to his Shiber, knocking it over. “ _Mianhaeyo_!” He lamented and waddled over, avoiding the mess he’d made, to place Shiber upright.

On his fourth attempt, San retrieved his Eevee slippers, which he’d have been happy to find about half an hour ago. He let out a loud whine of extreme annoyance and plunged his hand in one more time. This time his hands closed around something familiar.

San almost cried with relief as he managed to free one of his favourite tops. He dusted the white sweater by whipping it against his knee and admired its friendly horizontal black stripes. He figured the black jeans he wore yesterday would fit perfectly, and he was too annoyed to have to repeat the hassle he just went through.

He hurriedly undressed and rushed to take a quick shower before changing.

 

///

 

He stepped out feeling refreshed with his school clothes on and a towel around his damp hair. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to straighten it or crimp it. Whatever time allowed, he guessed.

He definitely needed to unpack and put up their clocks as the only one they had managed to put up was the one above the front door. He’d tragically managed to lose his phone somewhere in his beloved quilt.

San frowned as he observed the clock’s hands to be at the exact position at which he’d last seen them.

Gears started whirring in his head but he didn’t want to comprehend the truth. Two seconds after processing his thoughts, he ran like a madman to his bed and threw aside his quilt, hands frantically reaching where they could in order to locate his phone.

When his fingers finally closed around the cold plastic of his phone case, San peered at the time that blinked on at the top of his screen, **_8:17._ **

“ _Shit._ ” He cursed under his breath and whipped around to hurry back into the bathroom, causing his towel turban to unravel and slip off his shoulders. He was _wetly_ reminded of the current state of his hair.

How was he supposed to show up to school like this? It would _tarnish_ his charisma.

Oh, and he had roughly 60 seconds to be in his car and hit the road.

 _Fuck_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> korean word glossary (in order of appearance): 
> 
> Yo: korean version of a futon  
> Eomma: mom  
> Ne: yes  
> Annyeong: hello/goodbye  
> Mianhaeyo: i'm sorry (informal)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yee here we go with the excessive description. I've added the names of other k-idols but they won't be included in the tags bc they only serve as support. I'll also try to have everyone (ateez) introduced by the next chapter. vocab glossary in the end-notes!!

San’s phone read **_8:22_ **when he finally took a seat in his car. His mother opted for public transit as it was a surprisingly quicker commute; her office was located directly opposite one of the subway stations.

San stressfully gripped the steering wheel of his 2016 _Camry_ as he adjusted his phone onto the GPS grip above the dashboard. His car was a gorgeous shade of grey and they’d gotten it at quite a decent price. He still couldn’t get over the fact that his mom had actually allowed him to drive it, considering that he bopped pretty hard when his favourite songs came on the radio.

He was easily distracted to say in the least.

By the time he rolled out of the underground garage, he had only six minutes before the warning bells would sound across the halls of the damned school he was rushing so hard to get to. Cursing as he hastily shoulder checked, he changed into the leftmost lane and speedily swerved into the next intersection before the light even had a chance to transition from orange to red. _Not today, Satan_. He grimaced as he received honks from a handful of cautious drivers.

“ _Yongseohaseyo,_ _eomma._ ” He added as an afterthought after merging into the middle lane of the road he’d just turned into. Today was terrible indeed.

Although his GPS estimated the ride to be nine minutes in length, he was determined to make it in half the time. After all, he was a miracle worker. Sometimes. The black and red haired teen revved his engine and sped up to 20 above the speed limit, zooming through the upcoming intersections and most probably scaring the observing pedestrians half to death. He’d bow in apology if he could, but he couldn’t, so he carried on.

It was **_8:29_ **when he pulled up to the driveway belonging to his school. It snaked up a relatively short mountain which was surrounded by ancient, rusting, iron gates. San’s nose instinctively twitched as the scent of oxidizing metal entered his car through the open windows.

It was an odd and distasteful sight, but forgivable. He was reminded that he now attended a public school which was hopefully a lot more tolerating than the private collegiates he’d attended in the past. Naturally, he was a scholarship student, but only because his older sister was a phenomenal tutor.

As his car began its ascent up the hill, San was forced to maintain the posted speed as one awry turn could mean tumbling off the uneven rockface to his right. He shuddered at the thought.

The ride took roughly a minute, mainly because he kept glancing over to the growing height between him and the base of the mountain. It was unsightly and scared the shit out of him. Heights were the bane of his existence and the very reason he preferred to keep the curtains in his room shut. The road broke into a wide lot as he neared his destination and his phone insistently buzzed to remind him of the fact.

He was greeted with mayhem.

Of course, being the lovely public high school that _Sang-a Sanmalu High_ was, the last paint job it had received was probably a century ago.

San squinted to make out the parking line in the asphalt with no success. They were virtually nonexistent. Even better was the fact that other students had taken the liberty of parking three to four feet apart, creating a greater waste of space than the sight of the school before him.

Vehicles were parked in all sorts of positions possible and a barrage of honks from around him interrupted his less than friendly thoughts. He looked up at the rearview mirror and glanced behind him, only to see a stream of cars backing up behind his own. He could have sworn he was the only one driving up earlier.

He huffed in annoyance and pulled forward, narrowly avoiding the bumper of a minivan jutting out to his right. Did no one here have regard for space and time? It was literally three minutes past the bell and at least a dozen cars had entered the parking lot after he had.

 _You’re not any better_ , he reminded himself while eyeing an empty but seemingly tight spot about five cars to his left. If he had made it this far without any major incidents, he could probably jigsaw himself into the confined slot, right?

However, just as he attempted to veer to his left, a bright red convertible (which looked at least a decade old) sharply cut him off from the front and curved into the very spot, pissing him off enough to smash his horn at the selfish little fuckers within the cursed automobile.

He watched with slight satisfaction as the driver jumped in his seat and whipped around towards the sound. He tall enough for his head to barely touch the disconnected windshield and his dark hair was styled to just brush his large, owl-like eyes. He would have been intimidating if his eyes weren’t so big.

Said kid waved apologetically and mouthed a quick “sorry” before gathering his stuff and hurrying out of his side.

He hadn’t noticed the idiot’s friends until another, impossibly taller boy exited the right side of the car and offered San a half-assed wave of his own. This kid had ashy brown hair styled in an undercut with fringes that parted in the middle and hung over the sides of his face. He was obviously built and his eyes were much narrower than the driver’s, making him a hell lot more intimidating. The scarier guy was evidently tired as he let out an enormous yawn and slung his backpack over his shoulder, following the dorky looking driver who had begun to make his way across the parking lot, right in front of San.

It took an unimaginable amount of strength to resist the urge of running them both over.

Yet again, just as San tried to pull forward and scrounge on to find a new place to park, a slim and comparably shorter boy sprung out from the back seat of the convertible and lithely landed only inches away from the _Camry_ ’s fender.

“ _Goddammit_ ,” San audibly cursed and slammed the brakes to avoid running into the new offender.

San was on the verge of sticking his head out the window to offer a piece of his mind but he paused, mesmerized by the new boy’s shock of lavender-grey hair. It was styled similar to that of the tall and muscular guy, but what accentuated it further was the way the boy’s head was tilted as he was amusedly regarded San through dark, khol’d eyes.

Being in the driver’s seat, it was impossible to see anything past the boy’s waist but it was easy to tell that he dressed to impress. San’s eyes flickered over expensive-looking furlined parka that was lazily hanging off the other teen’s shoulders and the black knit sweater that hid beneath it. For a reason that escaped San at that particular moment, it was incredibly hard to keep his eyes off the well-dressed con in front of him.  

The pretty boy must have noticed the obvious rage on San’s face as he unapologetically shrugged his shoulders and lifted a corner of his lips in a small, mocking smirk, before jogging to catch up with his two counterparts. The three miscreants disappeared into the sea of vehicles.

It took San a couple moments to let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, before shaking his head in annoyance and carrying on in a dire search. All while trying to rid his mind of what he had just witnessed.

So maybe he was being slightly dramatic, but he was _late_. A despairing look at his phone had told him it was **_8:36_**. He smacked his forehead on the wheel with a groan and continued the tragic task of finding a place to park.

 

///

 

As soon as San stepped through the glass double doors of the school's entrance, a wave of anxiety washed over him and his previous discontentment was forgotten.

He nervously ran his fingers through his red streaked hair as he regarded himself in the reflection of the trophy display cases placed adjacent to the main office. He didn't bother with distinguishing the school's numerous achievements as he was too jittery to even see himself clearly. Was it possible for one's eyes to shiver?

San didn’t want to know the answer to that.

He’d barely managed to massage enough mousse into his hair and after blow-drying it, it had turned out fluffy. But not quite what he was going for.

He took out a little hand comb which he’d left in his pocket from the day before and began to comb, organizing the locks into a more presentable-but-rough array. Thankfully, he'd done it enough times before that he could do it without a visual aid so he focused his eyes into guiding him down the main hall. Being the nervous wreck that he could be at times, he’d decided to scope out the school’s map and somewhat memorize the relative locations of his potential classes.

He would receive his schedule in his homeroom like all the students. Thankfully his mother was considerate and kind enough to move at a time that would allow him to start with all the other students instead of having him have to catch up halfway through the year.

And bless his surname, because being a _Choi_ meant his homeroom was nearest to the entrance of the school.

San spotted room A107: first floor and seventh room from the A-wing gate. At least there was some sort of pattern he could use to decipher where the rest of his classes would be.

As soon as he turned into the room, he met with the loud chorus of students greeting one another after the Summer break. He felt his anxiety return and the tremors in his hands and chest began as tried to find an empty seat.

He awkwardly waddles through the clumps of kids catching up and exchanging vacation gossip. San kept his gaze focused on the coffee canister in his hand while also trying to keep an eye open for an unoccupied seat; people had tossed their bags and coats to save spots for themselves as well as each.

He finally managed to locate an empty pair of seats near the back-right of the room and hurried to avoid being intercepted like in the parking lot. Hopefully, neither of the three were in his homeroom.

San was only a dozen steps away from his destination when he tripped over a binder which had fallen out of someone’s bag.

He momentarily flailed and reached out to grasp something in order to save himself and his coffee. What he didn’t anticipate, however, was grabbing a shoulder of the person sitting closest to his location.

“Ah, I’m really sorry!” He panicked as a shorter brunette with full lips and firm shoulders turned to face him.

The boy blinked a couple times, staring at the flustered mess that had become of San.

“...Choi San?” The brunette murmured, disbelieving.

“Eh?” San stared back, not quite sure what was going on.

The new boy fully turned in his seat. He squinted and leaned forward, his left hand reaching clutch San’s chin and his right making its way towards the side of San’s stomach. Without warning, he poked hard right at the center of the taller’s waist.

The taller, dark haired boy recoiled and let out a short, surprised laugh which displayed his dimples in all their glory.

“I cannot believe this,” Choi Jongho growled, standing up and towering over San, who had now fallen over into the very seat he had tripped beside. “It’s me, you idiot. Your freaking cousin.” Jongho flicked his stupid cousin’s forehead in annoyance. He didn’t hold back and watched with a debauched smirk as San emitted a distressed wail and clutched his abused skull.

“Jongho!” San whined, caught between disbelief and extreme annoyance, yet again.

“Sanniee,” the other grinned back cheekily, resting his head on his forearms which folded over the back of his chair.  

“This isn’t the disrespect I deserve after not seeing you for four years!” San complained with a pout.

“Nah, this is exactly what you deserve. But if you think you deserve more, feel free to let me know.” The younger cracked his knuckles to mockingly threaten. “Anyways, what the hell are you doing here?”

San sighed as his younger cousin got straight to the point. “ _Eomma_ got repositioned.”

The brunette raised an eyebrow in anticipation, “And?”

“AndIgotblacklistedbyalltheprivateschoolsintheSouth.” San muttered out, hoping his gibberish was inaudible.

“Sorry didn’t quite catch that,” his annoying cousin smirked wider and leaned closer. Oh, he heard it _perfectly_.

“The preps have no sense of style. It’s quite horrendous, really.” San tried to cover his slip-up while self-consciously running his hands through his hair.

Jongho snorted. “Or you need to learn how to actually abide by dress codes. I mean, if you’re going to be so hardass on only settling for the best, at least try to maintain what you’re able to get,” he contorted his face to mimic a wise expression.

“I dress perfectly fine! They’re just so... _ugh_...to scholarship students!” The older retorted.

“Oh boo hoo, poor you. It’s what you signed up for.” The full-lipped brunette shrugged. “How’s your mom, by the way?”

“She’s doing good, busy as usual.” San nodded.

“I’m guessing you moved here recently? Your eyes are swollen. They look really ugly.”

San glared at his rude and unbearable cousin. He reached out to smack said boy’s head but Jongho quickly ducked. “Yeah, we landed yesterday morning.”

“Ah, that explains it. You probably haven’t even started unpacking yet.” Jongho nodded knowingly.

“Have too!”

“You would’ve dressed unnecessarily extravagant if had, you attention-seeking brat.” The other observed.

“Hmph,” San huffed, unsure of what to say back. His cousin knew him too well, even after four years. They’d lost contact after Jongho had secured a position at a prestigious Arts academy following a flawless performance at a regional competition; he’d always been a much more talented vocal out of the pair. The two had taken singing lessons together for as long as they could remember: Jongho the solid Tenor, and San who switched between Tenor and Alto.

“Uh, excuse me,” An unfamiliar voice saved San from Jongho’s tormenting. He looked up to meet the eyes of a beach-blonde boy who had some of his frizzy locks held back with a headband.

Jongho looked up as well. “ _Hei hyeongje_ , how’s it going?” He nodded to the other.

“ _Neul geurucho_ ,” The blonde looked like he was holding back a yawn, or maybe his eyes just looked naturally sleepy, San observed. He was slightly startled when the sleepy pair of eyes turned to meet his own.

“Ah Chan, this is my _meongteong-guli_ cousin, Choi San.” Jongho added, finally understanding why Chan had made an appearance. “Forgive him, he’s a little spoilt. Fresh from the privileged private school life, ‘thinks he take anyone’s seat.” The shorter brunette shook his head as if feeling sorry for the sight before him.

" _Dagchyeo_ , I hate you!” San pitifully whined and finally succeeded in smacking the living headache sitting opposite him. He turned to face the boy he now knew as Chan. “Ah, I’m sorry for taking your spot! I’ll move right away,” San began picking up his bag and coffee mug but was physically stopped by the blonde holding him down by his shoulders.

“Nah, it’s fine, sit down. I came to grab my stuff ‘cause I’m moving anyways,” Chan laughed and reached behind San to grab his supplies and retrieve the binder that lay between their feet. “ _Tto mannayo_ ,” The blonde smiled over his shoulder as he made his way to another boisterous group of students.

“He’s nice.” San noted.

“He’s the Student Council Vice-Prez. He’s nice to everyone.” Jongho deadpanned.

“Who’s the President?” San hoped the actual leader would be at least as nice as his subordinate.

“That would be Hongjoo-” As if on cue, Jongho was interrupted by a sharp _ping_ signalling the start of daily announcements.

“ _Dol-awaseo bangawo_!” A cheerful and welcoming voice filled the classroom. “It’s me, Hongjoongie-hyung! ‘Hope you didn’t miss me too much!” The Student Council President laughed playfully. “I sincerely hope your break was restful…” San began to zone out as a series of encouraging phrases were read out, meant to hype the students into trying their very best this year.

“Ah, when will he realize that our school is already a lost cause?” A girl with bangs, a ponytail, and wide eyes, sitting to a few rows behind him, sighed.

“Yena-ssi!” Her curly haired seat partner donning a varsity jacket with the name _Soo Bin_ embroidered on its front, laughed.

Jongho lifted his head to regard his twin sister with a raised eyebrow, “Yena, you’d know best that Hongjoongie doesn’t understand the words ‘give up,’ yeah?”

He obviously meant to hit a nerve. The girl being addressed flushed pink and straightened her back, ready to fight her brother but stopped short when she noticed San.

“Sannie!!” She jumped out of her seat and bounded over to his, enveloping him in a tight hug before he could even catch his breath.

“Yena-ya,” San tried to laugh without choking as he pat her back. “Long time no see?” He grinned as she pulled back.

“ _Babo_!” She slapped his shoulder. “You never texted me!”

“Ah!” San winced, the Choi twins were ridiculously strong.

Before either of them could abuse him any further, a person whom he could only assume to be the homeroom teacher finally strolled in.

“Sorry, I’m late. The coffee machine was broken.” He drawled as he began to unpack his messenger bag. It looked like it would fall apart any second as it was covered in patched and loose stitches. The man’s circular glasses were slightly askew and his chestnut brown hair seemed unbrushed. Saddest of all, was the fact that the first three buttons of his checked dress shirt (which clashed terribly with his striped pants) were buttoned unevenly.

“But you always say that, Baekhyun-nim!” About half the class nagged with amusement.

“Ai! Show some respect! Do you know how hard I’ve worked to be standing here!” Their teacher scolded back.

“You’ve had us for _three years_ , Baekhyun-nim, do you really think we’ll start respecting you _now_?” Yena snorted, still half-hugging San.

“Yeah, what respect _do_ you deserve? All you do is leech off Chanyeol-nim.” Jongho spoke up, showing no interest in letting his teacher off the hook.

“I even have visual proof!” Soo Bin called from the back, waving her phone to catch the poor teacher’s attention.

“Soo Bin, I swear if you-” He began.

“You’re too late Seonsaengnim,” Chan interjected, shaking his head with mock remorse. “The photocards are already in circulation. But don’t worry, you look great in them!”

The look of horror that appeared on Byun Baekhyun’s face had most of the class falling over in uncontrollable laughter.

“Anhhh!” He groaned as he clutched his hair in humiliation. “I can’t do this anymore.”

San couldn’t but help but snicker at his teacher’s predicament. It didn’t look like anyone took anything seriously over here, so at least he wouldn’t be reprimanded for being late.

“Your class schedules are at the front, come grab them yourselves while I go file a lawsuit for defamation.” Baekhyun muttered, pinching his nose and storming out of the room while the class continued to roar with laughter.

“Don’t complain too much to Chanyeol-nim, you might kill the only brain cell he has left!” Jongho called after the abashed man.

Yena reached forward and slapped her brother’s back, “You’re ruthless.” She snickered.

“Only the best for our beloved _Seonsaeng_ ,” He smirked back.

San noticed that Chan had taken the initiative to start handing out their schedules, breaking into random little fits of giggles as he did so.

“ _Gamsahamnida_ ,” San and Yena chorused as Chan passed by and handed them their respective schedules.

“You should just replace Baekhyun-nim, you’re so much more qualified.” Jongho’s seat partner piped up.

“Don’t let him hear you say that, he might release Kyungsoo-nim on us.” Chan warned back.

“I doubt any sane man would take orders from our _Seonsaeng_ ,” Yena added.

“True, but Kyungsoo-nim is still scary.” Jongho shuddered and nodded to Chan as the blonde continued on his way.

“Who is he?” San inquired. It was rare to Jongho acknowledge someone’s superiority.

“He teaches Senior Chemistry. I think he’s the only mentally-sound teacher this school has.” Yena answered, finally getting off San’s lap. “He’s strict but lovable. Only if you’re on his good side, though.” She added as an afterthought.

“I’m guessing you are?” San packed up his things and followed. Jongho wasn’t too far behind.

“Yena-ssi is a chemistry _god_!” Soo Bin exclaimed running up behind them. “Kyungsoo-nim adores her.”

“Ew, don’t be creepy, Binnie!” Yena laughed, obviously basking in the praise despite her protest.

The bell signaling the end of homeroom rang just as they exited the classroom.

“What do you have first?” Jongho’s shoulders brushed San’s as he leaned over to compare their schedules.

“Japanese with…” San studied the name of his teacher, “Seonghwa-sensei?”

“Ooh, you got lucky!” Jongho proclaimed. “Seonghwa-sensei always cooks for his classes. He used to be a chef!”

“Oh, does he teach anything cuisine-related?”

“Nah, his finesse is too much of the students. He’s a total perfectionist when it comes to cooking.” Yena explained. “But don’t worry, he’s actually really chill with everything _not_ related to food.”

“Argh!” Jongho suddenly cried.

Soo Bin, Yena, and San startled from the sudden outbreak.

“I’ve got Fitness with Chanyeol-nim first thing in the morning!” He continued to wail.

“Are you taking Biology as well?” Yena asked, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Yes? But on my Day 2's, so tomorrow?.” Her brother answered cautiously.

“Then it’s Chanyeol-nim for you every day!” She cheered as her twin quickly paled.

“What’s so bad about Chanyeol-nim?” San asked, feeling immensely left out. It seemed he also had Biology with Jongho on his Day 2's.

“He literally runs on one brain cell, as I mentioned earlier. And he’s so loud. And easily-distracted. And he walks into the top of the door frame every time he enters a room, without fail!” Said cousin complained.

“He can’t be _that_ bad.” San reasoned.

The shorter brunette gripped his older cousin’s shoulders and looked him right in the eye. “Sannie, we’ve got National exams this year. We’ll _fail_ if Chanyeol-nim doesn’t step up his teaching game.”

“But what does he normally do in class?”

“I don’t think a single day has passed where Chanyeol-nim hasn’t spent the entire hour talking about his snowboard, his dog, or describing a new way in which Kyungsoo-nim tried to kill him with some utensil found in the staff room.”

San’s eyes widened as he heard Yena’s comment. “I thought you said Kyungsoo-nim was normal?”

Yena simply shrugged. “Well yeah, he is considered relatively normal in comparison to everyone else at this school.”

San felt faint. Just what had he gotten himself into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yongseohaseyo: please forgive me  
> Sang-a Sanmalu: ivory ridge (idk if its translated correctly tho T.T)  
> Hei hyeongje: hey bro  
> Neul geurucho: same as always  
> meongteong-guli: stupid (person)  
> dagchyeo: shut up!  
> Tto mannayo: see you around  
> Dol-awaseo bangawo: (something along the lines of) welcome back!  
> Babo: Stupid  
> Seonsaeng: Teacher (without honorific)  
> Seonsaengnim: Teacher (with honorific)  
> Gamsahamnida: Thanks!


End file.
